Chapter 10: Prelude to a Battle
Hermione spent the second week of her time with Snape learning to act. Snape called it 'creating plausible memories and emotions' with which to lie to even the most accomplished of Legilimens. They practiced scenarios in which Snape reverted to his past self, cruel, vindictive, and petty, and Hermione was to be frightened, nervous, and accidentally give up too much information while keeping her true feelings and memories hidden. Once she had mastered those scenarios on the third day, Snape abruptly told her to go have some lunch.
"Aren't you coming?"
He did not meet her eye.
"I have business with the Dark Lord. I expect to return before dinner."
Hermione kept her thoughts calm.
"Can you... tell me what it is?"
"No."
She silently accepted that response and turned to go to the kitchen, willing her heart to stop trying to drop out of her chest. He had not left her alone since they came to the house. He had not returned to Voldemort since before she had taken the Hogwarts Express home.
Hermione looked back, and noticed that he had not moved. His hooded cloak was waiting on the coat rack. As she watched him move toward the door, she had an idea.
"Wait."
Hermione hurried over to where he stood, hand poised over the coat rack. She placed her hand over his as it fell to rest on the cloak. Looking into his eyes with as much earnestness as she could convey, she placed her other hand on his upper arm.
"I trust you, Severus Snape."
He grabbed the black fabric, shaking her hand off, and threw the cloak over his shoulders, raising the hood while holding her gaze.
"How... reassuring," he remarked. "I shall know if you attempt to escape or attempt to contact the Order."
She moved closer to him and whispered, "I won't."
Her face only inches from his, she made a point to let her eyes fall to his mouth for a moment before returning his stare once more. He exhaled, his breath tickling her face, and seemed to lean almost imperceptibly closer to her. Then he smirked.
"Good girl."
He pushed past her without another word. Hermione sighed as the door shut behind him. Perhaps he could use that memory to convince Voldemort's she was the sort of young witch who could be fooled into trusting the Dark Lord's most trusted servant. Perhaps if she pretended to have developed an infatuation with him, it would explain why she would so exceedingly stupid, when by all other accounts she was an incredibly smart witch.
They had not discussed it as part of the plan, but Hermione rather thought it would be the most believable. There was sure to be a discussion when he returned.
She practiced her Patronus Charms for a while, then sat down with the books Severus had given her, looking for the highlighted sections that were annotated with his writing: useful survival spells, counter-curses, various charms and jinxes for moving about undetected, and a few books on the Mind Arts. Why hadn't Dumbledore thought to prepare her in these ways? It seemed rather careless to leave it up to Snape and herself to do it all.
True to his word, Snape was back just before dinner. He Apparated into the upstairs bedroom as usual – where the wards were set to allow only him to do so – and walked down the stairs so quietly that Hermione nearly fell out of her chair when she saw him. He went to the kitchen without a word and she heard him set something down on the table.
Getting up to investigate, she peered around the door frame cautiously, trying to gauge his mood. He was washing his hands thoroughly, ignoring her. There was a bag of groceries on the table with a loaf of bread and some greens sticking out of it. Their meals had thus far consisted of bread, cheese, the odd raw fruit or vegetable, various soups and beans from what seemed to be a stockpile of canned goods, and tea. There were also a few gallons of milk in a refrigerator, a strange sight in a magical home. It seemed to be running on unknown magic and a few stasis charms.
Her mouth watered at the thought of some variety in her diet. She longed to nose through the bag, but instead looked over at Snape.
"Everything all right?"
He did not answer as he dried his hands. Hermione began to worry. She peered into the grocery bag.
"Oh! So many vegetables... a salad? And what's this? Rice... and something from the butcher?"
She turned and looked at him.
"What's the occasion?"
He had turned around and was pulling a frying pan from the cupboard.
"I raided the Malfoy's kitchen on my way out," he said flatly. "There is a particular house-elf at their manor who has taken it upon herself to send me off with armfuls of food and produce. Apparently I look underfed."
Hermione laughed, but he did not seem amused. There were also muffins, biscuits, three apples, and an enormous slice of chocolate cake inside the bag. Snape was standing still, looking at the stovetop.
"Would you... uh, like me to help with dinner?"
He gave her a blank look.
"Have you any skill in the kitchen? I was under the impression that most young magical folk had never cooked for themselves before."
"I could cook if I needed to!" she said, though her skills were quite limited, mainly to breakfast foods and tea.
"Go back to your reading," he said. "I need no assistance, and you need to be ready for next week's lessons."
Hermione left him standing in the kitchen, annoyed. She could have at least chopped vegetables, and stayed out of his way.
She picked up her book again, but she did not make it far before the smells wafting out of the kitchen made her stomach growl. By the time she heard the thunk of the dinner plates on the table, she was ravenous.
Setting her book aside, she joined him at the table without a word. Her plate was full of rice, chicken, and stir fried vegetables. It smelled heavenly.
"This is amazing."
He sat down heavily.
"You haven't even tasted it yet."
She promptly took a bite and made a small sound of approval. Snape ate without looking at her.
"You may have your salad tomorrow for lunch," he finally said, halfway through his meal.
"What about that cake I saw in there?" she asked slyly.
"Your dessert, if you wish."
"You don't want any?"
He ate another bite, nearly finished now, and did not answer her. Hermione had soon cleaned her plate as well. Snape got up and took his plate to the sink, cleansing it neatly with a spell and stacking it back in its place. He picked something up off the counter and then leaned against it, watching her, eating biscuits.
Hermione cleaned her own plate and put it away, then scanned the counter for the cake she was now craving. Snape flicked his wand, and the object of her desire floated up off the counter behind him and landed neatly on the table where she had just been sitting. A fork followed.
"Thanks."
They indulged in their desserts in silence for a minute before Snape spoke.
"Your behavior earlier today suggests you have come to the same conclusion as I on the subject of... how we might ensure the Dark Lord believes you have been convinced to trust me."
Hermione felt her cheeks flush immediately. The conversation was happening before she had even finished dessert.
"Er – yes. Is that... do you think that is the best plan?"
He studied her.
"If executed convincingly... yes."
She swallowed the last bite of her cake with some difficulty, wishing for a nice cold glass of milk to help wash it down.
"So... how, uh, convincingly would be enough?"
He smirked.
"I will leave it up to you to decide the specifics. It is your act, after all."
Hermione decided to move on to a related subject.
"Oh, and I was also wondering... about our vows..."
He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.
"Uh, so I'm assuming that when you kissed me," she said quickly. "You were completing the spell that makes our, er – invisible ring signal – work."
He inclined his head and ate another biscuit.
"And Dumbledore said that our vows would have to be the sort that could bind our magic, or else Vol- I mean the Dark Lord would be suspicious. So..."
Hermione paused as he met her eyes again.
"So, I assume that the vows are not yet complete. Since there has been no consummation and that is what is typically required."
He held a half-eaten biscuit between his fingers, staring at her.
"That was never part of the plan. Never, Granger. There is no need for it, first of all because our magic is already partially linked by the vows. We will be able assess the overall well-being of one another even when separated by great distances. Second, the Dark Lord would expect me to be repulsed by the idea that I might need or want magical strength from a Muggle-born witch. He might encourage me to... overlook such objections in order to drain you of some power, but in the end he would understand if I could not."
"Yes," said Hermione. "I thought as much, but, uh... what if part of my act were to involve trying to convince you otherwise? Either because I want to help you in whatever way I can, or... or perhaps later, because I hope to access your power?"
He threw the rest of the biscuit in the bin by the counter.
"No. You may introduce hints of a growing attraction as an explanation of your willingness to trust me. Do not attempt outright seduction."
He seemed to find the idea amusing. He probably did not think her capable of convincing seduction. He was probably right.
"Oh, okay, so I'm supposed to pretend I've become infatuated with you but I don't want to make this a real marriage?"
"There are plenty of real, sexless marriages in the wizarding world, Hermione," he said, smirking. "Many fools take the solemn marriage vows without regard for the difficulty that comes with ending them."
Hermione's third week with Snape was relatively uneventful. He made her practice dueling with nonverbal magic day in and day out, something else he admitted was never part of the plan. Hermione did not mind the deviation. Dumbledore could roll over in his grave all he wanted – she would rather be over-prepared for her mission than not.
One evening, a couple days before she was to return to the Burrow, Snape handed her a small beaded bag.
"What's this?" she asked suspiciously, running her fingers over the delicate beadwork.
"Something that will prove to be most useful," he replied impatiently. "Open it."
She did as he commanded, and gasped.
"It's HUGE inside! This is the best Undetectable Extension Charm I've ever seen!"
"Thank you."
"You made this? It's incredible!"
She stuck her arm into the deep, narrow bag and brushed her fingers against the slippery inner fabric, which expanded farther on the sides as she pushed against it, its limit unknown.
"I could get lost in there if I climbed inside."
"Don't. But no, you could not 'get lost'. It only expands far enough to accommodate its contents."
"Up to what size?"
He considered.
"It's less a matter of size, and more a matter of weight. Do not put more than twelve times that which you can lift inside."
Hermione laughed.
"I think I can safely say I won't need to carry more than that, unless I have reason to tote a full-size dragon around with me at some point."
"The opening may only be enlarged to a diameter of four feet," he said. Hermione laughed again.
"Oh, fine. No dragons, then."
The day she was to leave, he led her upstairs to the tiny bedroom where they had landed only a few short weeks earlier.
"Stand there by the bed, and do not move," he said tersely. She did as she was told, her eyes never leaving him.
He began walking around the room, pointing his wand at various spots on the walls, floor, and ceiling. Every so often he murmured a spell under his breath. Then, he began pointing his wand at her, and she felt soft caresses of magic teasing her robes and skin. He was now whispering a long series of incantations, flicking his wand with each slight pause.
Finally, he put his wand away and looked at her.
"You are now able to Apparate in and out of this room. You will not be able to bring anyone else with you, unless it is myself. Do not attempt it. The consequences would be... unpleasant."
She nodded.
"You may return here if you are in immediate danger, as a last resort only. You will not be able to get into the rest of the house unless I am here to release the containment spells. The room will not reveal itself or open to any but me, so it is a safe space."
She nodded again.
"Understood."
Hermione clutched her beaded bag in one hand, and reflexively checked for the outline of her wand in her robe pocket.
"It is time. You have four days. Remember what you must say."
"I will," she promised.
He took a step back and crossed his arms, waiting. Sensing that it was her cue, Hermione gave him a soft, pleading look.
"Goodbye."
His brow raised ever so slightly. Hermione walked over to him. The obstinate man was not making her act any easier, as he had done all week.
"I do hope I will see you again," she said, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes.
He looked down his overlarge nose at her.
"If all goes as planned you shall," he said cryptically.
Hermione felt a stab of genuine emotion in her gut, now that she was about to leave him and officially start her mission with Harry. There would never again be a time like the last few weeks with him. From now on when and if they met, it would be rushed, dangerous, and possibly observed by others. They would most often speak in coded messages. The Snape she had seen would disappear again, deep under cover, forgotten.
I am not pretending to have an infatuation, she realized. It's real.
How she dared to meet his eyes in that moment, she was not sure. Perhaps he only saw what he expected to see in her actions, or perhaps she was a better Occlumens than she thought. He calmly waited for her to finish her act and leave, unaware of what had just happened inside her head.
She satisfied herself with a brief, light brush of her fingers against his face as she moved the hair that had fallen in his eyes. He flinched and shot her a look of warning.
"Let's not continue to postpone the inevitable, Granger. Go to your friends. Wait for Potter."